One Year
by Dani9513
Summary: The Avengers didn't just save the Earth when they assembled. The also saved SHIELD's dinamic duo. They saved a partnership that had saved and destroyed. A partnership that had been broken nearly beyond repair. They saved SHIELD's untouchable pair, Black Widow and Hawkeye. Contains movie scenes, Budapest, and recruitment. Please R
1. Madrid: recruitment

**Welcome to One Year. I've been working on this for a while, but I've been hesitant to publish it. **

**Disclaimer: One person can't own Marvel, and if they can, well it isn't me. **

* * *

It was a loud, clear night in Madrid, Spain when the world would change forever. When a simple ex-carnie with trust issues would spare the life of a beautiful and manipulated Russian orphan. No one would see what would happen. No one knew that these two would play a large role in saving the world from drug lords, arms dealers, assassins, terrorist, and even aliens. No one could predict that these two would bring together a group of Earth's mightiest heroes. No one knew what the power of being human could accomplish. No one could see just how unique and powerful the Black Widow and Hawkeye were, and just how deadly they could be.

* * *

He had been observing her for a week, watching her every move and learning what it was like to be the Black Widow. He had observed her steal money from stupid men in the bar, put a few in a hospital, and run countless errands. Yet, there was one thing he couldn't put his finger on, why she hadn't killed them all. Quite a few deserved it, but she hadn't done anything but put them in a hospital. He didn't think the Black Widow spared anyone.

"Next time you send me on surveillance, give me a lawn chair." Twenty-three year old Clint Barton grumbled quietly into his earpiece. He was sitting up on a roof, overlooking a beautiful Russian.

His handler of one year, Phil Coulson, was probably rolling his eyes back at SHIELD base. "This isn't surveillance, it's assassination. Get rid of her, then get back to base. It's not hard, Barton. You've done it before."

"Coulson, I still don't like this." He replied, watching the infamous Black Widow walk out of the shop with a green gown. His target, a current KGB spy, was only twenty-one years old. She had curly red hair, a pale flawless face, and bright blue eyes. She was beautiful, dangerous, and deadly. She had killed over fifty people in a month about two years ago, right after her husband died. "Why would she have a ballroom gown?"

"Probably for the charity event where Polksy will be." Coulson answered. "Barton, get over it. It's just another hit, and she is one evil woman."

Clint nodded as if Coulson could see him. "I know, but she's just like I was."

"She's nothing like you were." His handler replied. "She's a cold-hearted assassin. You had and still have a heart. The broken recruit mirror proves that one."

"Yeah, but I didn't have a heart on the job. She was forced into this life, Coulson. It's not fair." Clint replied, remembering his emotional breakdown when he shattered the bathroom mirror with his fist. He had seen the faces of everyone who betrayed him, and he lost it. Coulson, who had known he snuck out, had seen him and officially decided to put him back together.

Coulson sighed. "Look, Clint, I get why you relate to her, but she needs to be taken out. It's the council's mission, and you are already on bad terms with them."

"I still veto that decision." Clint mumbled, watching the Widow hail a cab. He jumped up and followed the cab by using the fire escape and moving through the crowd.

"We all do, even Fury. There was nothing you could have done to make that mission go right. You did the right thing by getting those kids out of there. Unfortunately, the council had a stick up their ass like usual." Coulson replied quietly.

Clint watched the Widow. She was only a year or two younger than him, and that bothered him. She was too young for him to kill. She could still turn her life around. After all, he had done it not even a year ago. He had gone from cold-hearted assassin to SHIELD's finest. "Phil, people can change."

Coulson knew he wasn't talking about the council. "Kid, just take the shot."

Clint shook his head. "No, I'm going to talk to her."

"Barton, do have any idea how bad of an idea that is?" Coulson began, knowing it was useless. Once the ex-carnie caught an idea, he stayed with said idea. He was as stubborn as they came.

"So what? Phil, I'll do this with or without your permission." He insisted.

Shaking his head Coulson sighed. "Fine, but you are waiting until that ball to talk to her. That way, she can't kill you with all of those people around."

"Deal."

It was three days later that Clint found himself wearing a fancy outfit to a ball. He had snuck his name onto the guest list the night before, and then gone out and found a suit. The next afternoon he found himself swirling a pretty brunette Portuguese girl while watching the Black Widow out of the corner of his eye.

The Widow was wearing a long green ballroom gown that hugged her every curve. The top was beaded with fake diamonds and would have been strapless if it had not been for the beaded strap on the left shoulder. The light shade of green came down diagonally from her waste across to her left side and landed at her ankle. The underneath layer of the dress followed the light shade and met the floor with a darker shade of green and a slight ruffle. Her red curls were twisted into a hairstyle that made him wonder how long she spent on it. A bang from her left side had been twisted and pulled to the right to create a half tiara around her head. All her curls were tucked into an elegant ponytail and pulled over to the right where they hung gracefully over her shoulder.

It wasn't hard to see why her target, the man she was dancing with, had fallen for her already. Besides her looks, she was graceful and charming. Of course, only her and Clint knew that this charm was totally faked.

Shaking his head, he smiled and continued to twirl the young debutant whom he had charmed. His outfit wasn't quite as formal as the Widow's, but it still did the job. He was wearing an elbow length white flannel shirt that hid his weapons well. His black vest was Kevlar at its best. To finish it off he wore a black hat with a rim that pushed upwards. He had a gun hidden under his white shirt, along with a few knives. Unfortunately his bow had to be left behind for this mission.

The girl in his arms swooned at him. "You are a good dancer, mister. What is your name?" She asked with a definite Portuguese accent.

"Clayton Brown." He responded, using his usual alias. He smiled at her and kissed her hand. "Excuse me, madam."

Walking away from the now pouting girl, he made his way to the Black Widow and her partner. "Excuse me, sir, but are you Dr. Polksy?"

The man nodded with a smile. Clint had him sized up in a few seconds. He was about five feet, eight inches. He had thin black hair, pale skin, and brown eyes. He was rich, wearing an expensive full tailored suit and a luxurious gold watch. Although by no means modest, Polksy seemed like a good man with a big heart. "Yes, how can I help you?"

"Do you remember your old friend, Dr. Bishop?" Clint asked, knowing the man would. He had researched Polksy thoroughly. Dr. Bishop was an old coworker who had lost contact with Polksy. Bishop had moved to America around forty years ago.

The man laughed. "Of course, do you know Daniel?"

Clint smiled charmingly, ignoring the Widow's glare. "Yes, he is my grandfather. He said I could find you here."

Polksy smiled and clapped his shoulder. "I see the family resemblance. So you are Olivia's son then? Or are you Victor's boy?"

"Olivia's, sir." Clint stated, fighting the urge to snicker as the Widow narrowed her eyes. "Is this your girlfriend, sir?"

The old man laughed. "No, a woman this beautiful wouldn't want to date someone as old as myself. Ms. Rushman, this is my old co-worker's grandson…"

"Clayton Brown." Clint said, kissing her hand before she could pull away. Her glare was withering before she smiled at the old man.

"Jim, I was hoping you would show me that painting we were discussing." She purred, charming the old man.

He smiled at her. "I will come back and find you, my dear. First, I must go mingle with everyone here. It was great to meet you, Clayton. Tell your grandfather I said hello. He was a great man."

"Will do, sir." Clint said, watching him walk away. The Widow turned on her heel and began to storm off. He followed her to the punch bowl and smiled. "Excuse me, ma'am, would you do me the honor of a dance?" He asked her politely in Russian.

She stared at him, no doubt analyzing everything about him in ten seconds. He caught her ice blue eyes as she stared at him. "I am sorry, but no."

He nodded, showing her his gun tucked in his hip. "Come on, Widow."

Her eyes turned ice-cold as she glared at him. "Who are you?"

He nodded to the dance floor. "I'll explain everything."

"American, are you not?" She asked, switching to English. Her accent had disappeared and she pronounced English like she had speaking it her whole life. "So, CIA or someone else?"

"Not even close. I am American, but I do not work for the CIA or anyone you would have heard of." He stated, smirking at her.

She rolled her eyes. "Fine, I have been needing a little entertainment lately."

"Polksy too boring for the Widow?" He teased.

Her eyes turned into a deadly glare again. "You aren't his old co-worker's grandson."

He shook his head with a smile. "No, I needed to talk to you alone. I knew your target. Did you know he's a single father?"

"A daughter sixteen years old." She stated, taking a drink of the wine.

"He is a doctor at Madrid's most popular hospital. He refused to kill a target of the KGB, and in return they sent you. The man has no reason he should be killed. He is a high-ranking member of society who constantly donates funds to charities." He returned, watching her for a reaction.

She wasn't going to give him one. "Mmm, all well."

"All well? It's killing you to harm innocent people, I can tell. I've been there. Come on, let's dance." He stated, holding out a hand.

She watched it carefully before following him out to the dance floor. She was surprised to figure out he knew how to waltz, seeing how it wasn't a common dance in America.

"What would you say if I told you I could give you a new life? One where you knew everything about your target. One where you weren't a puppet." He asked her, ignoring Coulson, who had been quiet, cursing in his ear.

"I would say you were a liar." She responded, smiling coyly. "Do you know the tango, Mr…"

"Call me Agent Barton, Ms. Romanoff." He stated, answering her question by putting a hand on her back and clasping her left hand with his arm out. "I am not lying, Ms. Romanoff."

She nodded, moving with the beat. She knew the dance well, not as well as others, but well enough. Her body moved with his flawlessly as she stared into his sincere blue and gray orbs. His eyes fascinated her, she had never seen two colors blend like that. Deciding to take a chance, she let all her years of dance take over.

"What was that?" He asked, smiling as her right foot made a small circle behind his before returning to its place.

"Guess the music just speaks to me." She purred, nearly shocked when he nodded and pulled her up. He stepped back, then to the side, forward, and finally stepping back closely to her.

"Well I guess then we don't have a language barrier." He stated, smirking as she glared at him before lifting her right heel back and moving with him. "Would you listen to my offer?"

"Is it that or you try to kill me?" She questioned.

His smirk told her the answer. "I work for the Supreme Headquarters of International Espionage and Law-Enforcement Division, or SHIELD for short. We've had an eye on you ever since you killed one of our agents six months ago. I've been watching you for a week now." He began, twirling her around before regaining the close position and moving with her.

"Should I be honored?" She asked sarcastically.

"Yes, we don't just pay attention to anyone. We take care of everything and anything that is a threat to the world. Whether it be terrestrial or extraterrestrial. As for me, I don't pay attention to just anyone." He stated, dipping her to the ground.

"You'd be surprised how many times I've heard that comment, Agent Barton. Sounds intriguing, but why should I join you?" She asked.

"Because you have nowhere else to go. The KGB knows you are trying to get out, and they have a bounty on you and you know you need help to get them off your back. Also, if you don't agree, then I will have to carry out my mission and kill you." He answered her.

"So tell me, _Agent Barton_, did SHIELD send its best after me?" She purred, irritated he knew she was trying to leave the KGB. She twirled in his arms and silently admitting to herself that she hadn't danced like this in years. Maybe she had never danced like this. Dancing was usually accompanied by a false chemistry that made a man eat of her palm. Yet, Agent Barton didn't seem at all effected by her charm.

His cocky smile was her answer once again.

"So what are you offering me, agent?" She asked, her blue eyes mixing with his.

"A second chance." He answered, twirling her one last time before catching her and letting her land in his arms. He dipped her to the ground, his face only inches from hers.

She nodded. "I'll consider it."

He nodded at her. "I'm not letting you out of my sight, Romanoff. How do I know you won't finish the job and leave?"

She nearly swore. "Fine, I will come with you, but only since you are right, I am tired of running."

"I know how you feel." He whispered, pulling her back up and letting her go.

She watched as he walked away to get a drink. As she silently followed, she wondered when a man could make her ask so many questions to herself.

Agent Barton sure was mystery.


	2. Paris

"You know, these high class assignments are getting old." Clint mumbled into his com. He pretended to take a drink of the glass of wine so no one saw his lips move.

"You're just upset you can't use your precious bow." Came the snarky yet accurate response from his partner of one year.

"There's Nathan Blaise, now where's his wife?" Clint asked, seeing the target across the room. He watched the Frenchman move throughout the celebration for Christmas. The target, Nathan Blaise and his wife Lola were arms dealers for some very shady people. The two had come under SHIELD's radar after one of their biggest clients was captured.

"On his arm like usual." Natasha stated.

"Okay, ready Mrs. Natalie Baily?" He asked, fixing his black jacket and adjusting his black tie. He hated formal events for two reasons: one, he couldn't have his bow, and two, he had to wear a suit and tie.

"Ready Carson." She hissed, appearing at his side. He looked over her, trying not to stare. Natasha's hair was hung up in a bun, with one elegant curl falling on the right side of her face. She was wearing a brown mermaid dress that hugged her every curve before flowing out lightly. There was a layer of emerald-green under the brown that created a sweetheart neckline. On her neck was an expensive looking diamond necklace.

"You look stunning." He stated, putting an arm through hers as they walked over to the French couple.

"Thank you, you clean up well too, for a carnie." She stated with a playful smirk. "Guns hidden behind right knee, on hip, one in his jacket, and one on his left ankle."

"Left knee, hip, probably chest, and in that purse she's carrying." He responded, smirking. "That's _ex_-carnie by the way."

"Once a circus freak, always a circus freak." She stated.

He glared at her before turning his attention to the French couple. Nathan Blaise had thin brown hair with cold hazel eyes. His face was round while his jaw line and nose had been obviously broken in the past. He wore a full piece black and suit with a green tie and a white undershirt. He also wore a wrist watch and black leather shoes. His arm was around his wife, Lola. The beautiful blonde was talking to another debutant whilst wearing a floor length pink dress that made Natasha gag slightly.

"Plan of action?" He asked her, frowning. Seems they couldn't do Natasha's usual seduction and kill. They had to get rid of Lola too.

"When he leaves her, you follow him and propose a business offer. Use VanWilson's name. I will _accidentally_ spill something on her little cotton candy dress and offer her my spare one. I get rid of her, you get rid of him." She whispered quietly in Russian.

"Sounds fun." He mumbled back to her, glad she had insisted on teaching him Russian ever since they met in Madrid.

"He's leaving, go." She insisted, shoving him forward.

Clint rolled his eyes and followed the man smoothly.

Natasha watched him leave carefully before walking over to Lola and fumbling with her purse. She knew she would collide with the French girl seconds before she did. She heard the woman screech. "Oh, madam, please forgive me. I am so sorry." She cried, glancing up at Lola. Sure enough, a red stain now covered her pink dress.

"Oh, I'll never get that out." Lola whined.

"Madam, please, I apologize. I can make it up to you." Natasha continued to beg.

"How? Uh, I can't stay down here in this dress. Oh, I knew I should have brought that other ball gown." Lola continued to grumble.

"That's it! Madam, I have another dress up in my husband and I's suite. I promise you, it should fit. Look at you, if anything, it'll be too big!" Natasha said charmingly.

Lola smiled and blushed. "Really? I couldn't be smaller than you, and I couldn't take your dress."

"Oh no, I insist. I won't wear it. Please, let me give it to you. It's my fault your beautiful gown is ruined." Natasha continued, ignoring Clint's snicker in her ear.

"If you insist, then, well, yes. My name is Lauren Blare by the way. My husband and I, we are weapon's advisors for France. He wondered off, I'm afraid." Lola apologized, following Natasha into the elevator.

Natasha smiled. "Ah, men tend to do that. I am Natalie Baily. My husband, he is an ambassador. I'm just a housewife."

"Just a housewife? Madam, you must have one of the hardest jobs on Earth. How many children?" Lola asked politely.

"Two. Victoria and William. Victoria is two, and taking full advantage of it. She has scared so many nannies away, oh I should check on the one we left them with. I feel so horrible leaving them." Natasha continued to fret.

"Those are sucky names, Romanoff." Clint mumbled in her ear.

"Ah, my husband and I, we don't have children yet. We tend to travel too much, and I could never leave work." Lola explained, leaving the elevator as it dinged. "Where are you from, Mrs. Baily?"

"Canada, but I grew up in Ukraine. My husband and I met while he was an ambassador." She said, giving a small laugh. "And you? What part of France?"

"Nancy, it's in the very north. Mrs. Baily, I must thank you again. You did not need to give me your dress." Lola said, watching Natasha unlock the suit door.

Natasha smiled and turned the lights on. She then let Lola walk in front of her so her back was to Natasha. Taking out a pistol and checking the silencer before concealing it in her hand, she began to speak again. "It was no problem, Mrs. Blaise."

Lola whipped around and yelped as she saw the gun pointed at her face. "Who are you?"

"I'm afraid Mr. VanWilson cannot keep quiet. I personally interrogated him." Natasha said, smirking as Lola went for one of her guns. "Ah, I would not do that, Lola."

"Who are you?" Lola repeated, eyes narrowing.

"I am afraid I cannot tell you that. I will give you a hint though," Natasha clicked the safety off her favorite Makarov. "This is a Russian gun I received when twelve."

"Black Widow." Lola whispered, right before dropping to the ground.

Natasha smiled sinisterly before wiping her gun clean. "How's it going, Hawkeye?"

"Done. He called me a demon." Her partner whined.

"Well, what do you expect?" She asked, rolling her eyes.

"I don't know. Hey, did we just finish a mission without something going wrong?" He asked her.

"It would seem so, but knock on wood just in case." She said with a smile before hiding her gun again. "Shall we finish dancing before leaving?"

"We shall." He said. "I'm outside Mr. and Mrs. VanWilson's suite."

She chuckled and opened the door. "Let's go."

* * *

"Happy New Year." Clint Barton stated, leaning against the glass door and watching his partner of two years lean against the balcony ledge. He buttoned up his black winter coat and adjusted the purple sweater he wore underneath it. He then tucked his bare hands into his black jean pockets and smiled at her. "Why aren't you joining the party?"

"Not a party person. It's only New Year's Eve." She mumbled, staring at the skyline.

"You miss Russia." He stated.

"Maybe." She whispered, glad he joined her by the ledge. "Go in, mingle. Everyone loves you."

"I wouldn't say everyone." He mumbled, playfully pushing her shoulder. "Come on, Red, let's go inside. It's New Year's Eve for God's sake."

She rolled her eyes and adjusted her red scarf. She was wearing a simple outfit consisting of black skinny jeans, a white sweater, a black winter coat, and white heeled boots. Her red hair was around her face and pinned down by her red scarf. "It's cooler out here."

"It is almost January still December." He stated, reaching into his pocket. "Hey, I have something for you. I picked it up in Paris."

"Why are you giving me something? When did you have time to pick it up?" She asked, confused. While their last mission had been the best by far, she couldn't think of a time he had been able to grab anything. They had been playing husband and wife who were interested in an arms deal with their targets. The two had completed the mission without a single thing going wrong.

"I picked it up from that little merchant shop we went to. As for why I'm giving it to you, first, it's really fricken cool, and second, you're supposed to give a gift on New Year's in Russia." He stated with a smile. He then took out a short rectangular box that was wrapped in red wrapping paper.

She stared at him before taking the box. "Clint-"

"Just shut up and open it." He ordered with a playful smile.

She glared at him but gently began to unwrap the paper. She couldn't remember the last time she had received a gift for her birthday, Christmas, or New Year's. She wondered if she ever had received one.

She glared back up at Clint as she finished and only saw a black box. He smirked and motioned for her to continue. Rolling her eyes, she removed the lid and possibly let out a gasp.

It was a short sword. The blade was polished and made of a white steel that glittered in the moonlight. The grip was wrapped in black leather while the silver handle was made to look almost like a curtain rod. The best part, the reason it screamed her, was because on the silver handle held a silver spider. The spider's two back legs were bordering the top of the steel, while the middle two legs wrapped around the handle. The top two legs reached all the way up the grip to the silver tip, creating a double grip for her. On the spider's back was a red hourglass. "Clint, it's beautiful."

"I thought you might like it. You said you lost yours on your last individual mission so I decided I'd get you a new one for New Year's." He said with a shrug.

"I love it. Thank you." She whispered, smiling at him to show her gratitude. She ran her fingers along the steel before placing the dagger back in its case. "It's the most beautiful weapon I've seen."

"Other than your Makarov of course." He stated with a smile.

She winked at him and tucked the box in her coat pocket. "Let's go back inside, they should be giving the awards out soon. I want to see if Thompson and Neller won anything. It'd be nice to see them knocked down a few pegs."

He chuckled and daringly slung an arm around her shoulders. Flinching when she glared at him, he took his arm away and walked into the crowded SHIELD cafeteria. The two walked over to their handler, Phil Coulson. Coulson nodded at them. "There you two are. I was wondering if you'd show up."

Clint smiled and stood next to the man who was his mentor. "Here we are. What's going on?"

"Agent Berkhouse is going to give out the award for the year's best duo in ten minutes." Coulson stated, nodding at Natasha. His eyes went to Clint who nodded. Coulson smiled at the Russian. "You like it? He showed it to me. It's a beauty."

"I love it." She said, shaking her head with a smile.

"Who won last year?" Clint asked Coulson, wondering if his face was as red as it felt.

"Neller and Thompson, like usual. They've won the past four years." Coulson stated, glaring at the pair's handler. "Their handler, Agent Ingram, loves to rub it in everyone's face."

Clint shrugged. "Is that jealousy I hear, Phil?"

Coulson rolled his eyes. "Why should I be? Because those two follow all protocol and are still the best. Our because they never scare the shit out of Ingram?"

Clint touched his heart. "I'm wounded, Phil."

"Oh shut up, kid." Phil stated with a roll of his eyes. He leaned against the wall. "I need a coffee."

Clint smirked. "Now, Phillip, you shouldn't- OW!"

Coulson smirked at his agents scowl. "Shut your mouth, _Clinton._"

Clint growled at him. "Who was female and male?"

"Carter and Woo." Coulson mumbled.

Natasha stared at Clint.

"Agent Sharon '13' Carter and Agent Jimmy Woo. Carter won best female agent of the year while Woo won male. Woo and Carter usually win." Clint explained to her, glancing at Coulson. "How bout we go to the diner out on twenty-third? I need real food and you need coffee. We can celebrate New Year's and job well done in Paris."

Natasha shrugged and nodded while Coulson smiled. "Let's go."

"Happy New Year's Day, Nat." Clint said the next night upon entering the office they shared while working together. Between the two and Coulson, they had three offices. One for Coulson, one for Natasha, one for Clint, and one for both of the assassins.

"You too. Hill dropped this off. We have a mission starting Friday." She said, reading over a file.

He took it and propped his feet on the desk. He then began to read. He had a fun-filled day of training agents, doing medical examines, and a routine visit to the therapist. His fun-filled day in hell.

"How was your days?" Coulson asked, walking into their office with a smirk on his face.

"Crappy." Clint responded, looking up at him.

"Boring." Natasha followed, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, happy New Year's. Keep it up." Coulson said, handing Clint a small package before walking out and shutting the office door.

"Keep what up?" Clint asked Natasha. She shrugged and motioned for him to open it.

It was a plaque.

Supreme Headquarters of International Espionage and Law-Enforcement Division

Most successful Partners of the Year

2013

Clinton "Hawkeye" Barton and Natasha "Black Widow" Romanoff

* * *

**Her dagger is on my profile. Also, Carter and Woo are two real and extremely successful Marvel SHIELD spies. Agent Sharon Carter falls in love with Captain and mother's his child. ALthough, they never mention anything but she was pregnant with his kid.**

**THANKS FOR THE SUPPORT EVERYONE: ESPECIALLY:**

**Sarcastic musician:** glad you're giving it a chance

**Guest:** yes, poor Coulson. Especially in the title chapter ;)

**Rosabelmay and sibunagirl-0331**: Yes, I did use that. Ha, it is my favorite Cinderella movie. Especially that tango scene that I had to listen to at least fifty times while doing Madrid. I have the song on my iPod

**PrincessMnMz:** thanks! I love them too!

you all made me feel so much better about this. Except, I'm still scared to publish budapest.

Please R&R

**Please R&R!** Next is Budapest, Part one.


	3. Budapest Part I

Budapest. Like most of their missions, it meant many different things. Madrid meant a new life. Paris was the golden egg where everything went right. Vienna was the first time he really saw what his partner could do. Berlin was when he saved them both. Yet, Madrid also meant two strikes against him. One more and the council through him out. Paris also meant a standard had been set. Vienna meant she had let him see through her walls briefly. Berlin meant she saw why he was SHIELD's finest. Budapest, Budapest was none of them.

Budapest was pain, both physically and emotionally. Budapest was outnumbering and bombing and hopelessness. It was passion, fear, pain, anger, and a sense of being lost. It was the near end of SHIELD's untouchable pair. The pair would take a leave of absence from each other for a year, only to be united by something they had never been trained for.

When Budapest happened, they gave into it. When it was over, they ran. When the Initiative started, they would show the world just what they could do. Just why a simple ex-carnie and ex-KGB agent were known as the Untouchables.

It was the story of Budapest that started it all.

* * *

"Jesus Christ." Twenty-four year old Natasha Romanoff cursed as she took down another Austrian mob member. "They just keep coming!" She hissed into her com.

"You're telling me? I've got at least twenty up here. Damn it!" She heard her partner of two years, Clint Barton, hiss into the com. "Where are they coming from?"

"Your guess is as good as mine." She mumbled, spinning in the air and landing on one of the man's necks. She began to use the thigh choke on him while shooting the other members. She flung her long red curls over her left shoulder and allowed her eyes to spark up to the roof where she knew Hawkeye would be in his shoulder-less leather suit. Her own cat suit always did compliment his. "It's has to be forty to two, Hawkeye."

Uh oh, code names out meant things weren't looking good. Shaking his head, Clint twisted his body into a somersault before snapping one of the man's necks with his hands and flipping his body off the man to land on the ground in a crouch. He came up shooting his arrows at the opponents, grinning as they fell.

Suddenly he heard a loud explosion, one that rang in his hearing aids and made him hiss. He really needed to get those things fixed. He had meant to after his last mission, but then Budapest had come up and left him with damaged hearing aids.

"There went one of the bombs." She hissed, hearing the civilians scream.

"Damn it, we need a pull out, Coulson!" Clint yelled, sending an emergency signal to their handler.

"What's wrong?" Coulson's voice asked.

"We're outgunned forty to two, and the bastards keep coming. The bombs are going off, and we don't really have a way to stop them. Need an emergency evacuation." Clint hissed as a bullet sliced skin off his cheek. He growled and fired an arrow at his attacker before snapping another's neck and crushing another's wind pipe.

"On it. Keep fighting you two." Coulson ordered.

"What else are we supposed to do, ask for tea?" Clint growled, showing how frustrated he was. He grit his teeth and stabbed his last arrow into a man's heart. He felt someone put him into a chokehold. Using the person's momentum he flipped behind the man and the person instantly let go. As the man twisted around Clint delivered a deadly kick to the man's neck and crushed his windpipe.

"Not time for sarcasm, Hawkeye." Natasha scowled, losing energy quickly. Damn sun burning down. Damn Hungarian and Austrian mob members. Damn Barton. Damn SHIELD. She glared at the roof as she punched a mob member squarely in the small of his back where his spine snapped. "Hawkeye, get your ass down here."

"Working on it, Widow." He snapped, nearly avoiding a knife in between his eyes. "Coulson, we can't keep this up. I've got a bullet in my shooting shoulder, a deep cut across the stomach, and probably a few busted ribs. Acrobatics and broken ribs don't mix. Plus, one of my aids is going."

"Revival crew will be there in fifteen minutes. Start to read lips, Barton. There is a reason I taught you that." Coulson said, trying to keep them relaxed.

"We don't have fifteen minutes, Coulson!" Natasha snapped, ignoring the blood dripping down her forehead.

"Work on it!" Coulson snapped back, knowing it was better to snap at them than to try be peaceful with them.

"Try-"

"Hawkeye? Hawkeye? Barton? Clint!" Coulson snapped.

"If you want your hawk to live, than come quietly." A man whispered into Natasha's ear as he held a knife to her throat. Had it just been her, than she would have risked it, but it wasn't. Clint's limp body was on the ground in front of her, clearly unconscious. The blood dripping from his temple was proof. Two mob members stood over him, guns pointed down. Five more behind the two.

"Romanoff? Natasha? Black Widow? One of you better answer!" Coulson yelled, earning attention from the other handlers.

Natasha could only say to words. "I'll come."

Coulson slammed his fist on the table and made some of the coffee spill. Someone had just captured his star agents.

Two days pasted, and Barton being Barton had pissed off the torturer. It wasn't their first time being tortured. They had agreed long ago that Natasha needed to keep her head since interrogation and escaping was her forte. Therefore, Barton always pissed to the interrogator off and made himself the target. After he was nearly killed the first time, Natasha and Coulson taught him how to manipulate his body to make the pain and damage lessen.

So after two days, the two found themselves in an all too familiar position. Natasha was tied to the chair being asked the questions, and Barton was receiving the punishment for her silence. They knew what to do. Natasha wouldn't answer, he wouldn't scream. That was all they could do. When the mob boss finally tired of beating the life out of Barton, they would be thrown in the basement of the don's house and Natasha would tend to most of Clint's injuries as best as she could. It was a routine.

Until the third day and the mob boss named William Marx discovered SHIELD was on their way.

"How much do they knew?" He asked, circling Natasha who had received a few punches and could taste blood in her mouth.

"I have no idea." She answered truthfully.

Marx scowled at her. "Do you want me to torture him?"

Natasha just raised an eyebrow.

The boss chuckled darkly. "Alright then,_ Widow_. I will take away the thing that matters most to your partner, and to you."

She thought he was going to say Clint's life.

But then one of the mobsters yanked Clint's head back as far as it would go. Marx took out a bottle of some sorts, and it hit both SHIELD agents at the same time.

_His eyes_. She thought, actual fear filling her veins. She wouldn't deny that his eyes were the most brilliant shade she had ever seen, but looks weren't why she was concerned. Hawkeye was nearly deaf, and without his sight, there was no hope for his career. His sight acted as his eyes and ears, _her _eyes and ears. They needed those eyes, especially since he couldn't use his shooting arm right now.

She wanted to slip out of the restraints, she could have, she just had a gun to her head and another one on Clint. She knew at least three people were watching her, and three more Clint. She couldn't risk it.

"Agent Barton, I have heard rumors about you. A simple ex-carnie who happened to be a natural shot." The boss said, standing over Clint.

_Ex-carnie?_ Natasha thought, wondering just where Hawkeye had come from. They never talked about their past. It was too touchy a subject. He knew hers via Berlin and her file, but she never saw his file or listened to his story. Yet, once and a while she would ask where he learned to his skills, he had always joked that he learned in the circus. _Maybe he wasn't joking._

She was surprised Clint kept his mouth shut.

"A natural shot, the kid archer, the _Hawkeye kid_. It is what Swordsman and Trickshot call you, hmm? The two men that taught you everything you know. Your eyes betray you, Clinton. You still are terrified of those men, aren't you? The two men who know your _every _trick, want you dead." Marx continued, smirking.

Natasha was listening to every detail, soaking in every element. Her eyes lit up in confusion for a second before going stone cold. Unfortunately, the one second was all Marx needed. His eyes lit up with glee and his smile became a smirk. He gave a tisk and took out a knife before placing the point under Clint's chin.

"Agent Barton, aren't you supposed to _trust_ your partner?" Marx asked.

"I do." Clint stated, his neck muscles joining the list of hurting body parts.

"Then why not tell her of your past? What did he tell you, Black Widow? Probably anything but the truth." Marx continued. "Don't worry Widow, I will tell you all of Agent Barton's painful history while we watch him squirm."

"Now, archer, what could your most valuable asset be? Ms. Romanoff?" The boss asked, earning silence from the Russian. "Ah, tough crowd. Your eyes, Agent Barton, they are quite unique. I have never seen two colors so well blended. It is a wonder you were never adopted. American woman just fall apart at such unique eyes. Then again, who would want you? A damaged, twelve year old butchers son who flinched every time someone raised a hand in front of him. You have come a long way from the little trailer trash that use to hide in high places just to avoid daddy's drunken raids. Did you know that Ms. Romanoff? Our dear Hawk was, or rather is, an orphan. Daddy a drunk, mom a drug addict. Dad crashed the car and killed his wife and him and left two sons abandoned."

Natasha couldn't believe what she was hearing. There was no way that Hawkeye was once a child abuse victim who lived in a circus. She almost snapped at the boss. The entire story was too creative for its own good. She wouldn't believe it, but the look in Hawkeye's eyes, the tense in his shoulders, she couldn't be sure. It would explain some of the scars on his back, ones that looked like belt marks.

"Is this a way to talk me to death?" Clint hissed.

The boss chuckled. "Alright, have it your way Clinton."

Natasha stared at partner, never seeing him this unhinged. To anyone else, he looked mildly irritated, but she knew better. He was ready to snap and kill Marx. She could see the frustration and anger in his body. The slight twitch in an eyebrow, the shoulders slightly tensed, his jaw lacked, and his mouth formed a tight line that gave it away to her that he was mad.

"On with business, I do have other things to attend to. Paul, force his eyes open." The boss ordered. Clint instantly started fighting back. Marx chuckled and unscrewed the cap. "I see you don't like this, Clinton. Your eyes are what attract woman. Did you know he used to be quiet a charmer until he met his ex-wife? Ah, what was her name? She is ex-SHIELD, what was it, Clinton?"

Clint grit his teeth. "Bobbi."

"That's right, Barbara 'Bobbi' Morse, also known as Mockingbird." Marx stated, starting with his left eye. Clint fought the men holding him. They were twice his size, he couldn't move anything. His head stayed in position and it took all his will power not to scream as the chemical continued to poor into his eyes. It felt like the time he had burned his hand on the stove burner when he was thirteen. His eye was on fire. They was screaming, scratching, and a few bloody tears were already leaking down his face. The sound of the liquid against his eye sounded like an egg sizzling.

Natasha stared, horrified. She had never seen her partner look so desperate to get away. He look terrified, although Marx couldn't see that. She stared, seeing his eyes reflexively begin to tear up with bloody tears. She could see Clint fighting the tears and the pain. All he showed Marx were grunts of pain, that was it. No screams, she was slightly proud.

The pain continued until the three ounce bottle was completely drained into Clint's eyes.

"Tomorrow, I will cut them out and listen to you scream." Marx insisted, letting the last drip hit Clint's swollen eyes. "Until tomorrow, send them to the cell. Wait, one more thing." Marx bent over and whispered something in the archer's ear that made Clint freeze solid. He chuckled before reaching for Clint's ear. He held one of Clint's hearings aids in his hand before dropping it and crushing it. He then walked over to Natasha who was glaring daggers at him.. "Be careful when addressing his latest _wounds_, Natalia. Maybe I will make a call to the KGB tonight, see how much they will pay for their Widow back."

**Sarcastic Musician: **thanks!

**PrincessMnMZ: **glad to hear it, but unfortunately this the next chapter is the last of their missions before I get into movie verse


	4. Budapest Part II

**WOW! That was a lot better response than I was expecting. I know, I mean to Hawkeye. Sad to say that the chapters get shorter from here, nothing too short. Don't worry.**

"Clint. Clint, let me look." She insisted, cornering him after the two guards had left.

"No, I'm fine." He growled, walking the opposite way of the bed.

Now that they were alone, hiding emotions didn't matter. They had dismantled the cameras and killed all the bugs the first night. Marx didn't care. He had them locked away as tight as he could. Locked and guarded doors, too small a window, and pitch black darkness except for the moon's light. They might as well been trapped in a bank vault. Wall Street Bank Vault.

"Wrong way." She scowled, grabbing his arm and turning him around.

He grunted and turned the other way, only for her to grab his left arm. "Clint, let me see. One of us needs to." She whispered softly.

He shook his head, his entire vision a blur. "Natasha, what's wrong? I've never seen you… I've never heard you sound that…"

She shook her head and tried to regain composure. "Clint Barton I swear if you don't let me check your eyes…"

He grunted and sat on the bed. "How bad are they?" He asked her, letting her examine his eyes. Her fingers gently caressed his face as she examined the swollen, puffy, and scarred eye.

"Tissues scarred, it's bubbly and swollen, and it's going to be a miracle if you see normally again." She answered, shaking her head.

"So bad?" He asked, blinking before letting her continue.

"Yes." She responded, letting go of his face and setting beside him on the bed. She shook her head. "The bullet in your shoulder is infected."

"I know, I keep having hot flashes." He mumbled, eyes closed. Marx had definitely abused his wounded shoulder. The first day he taken the bullet out with a butter knife. The second day he had beaten it with a crowbar. Today he had dislocated it before leaving it alone. To make matters worse, it was his shooting arm. "Wouldn't be the first time I've gotten an infection."

She nodded. "What was all that?"

"What was what?" He asked her.

"That story. Where did he get all that?" She questioned him gently.

"I have no idea." He responded.

"Bullshit." She hissed, glancing at him "You know exactly what he was talking about. It was all true, wasn't it?"

"We're not talking about his." He hissed.

"We are. Clint, it was all true wasn't it?" She asked, staring at his scarred orbs. Marx wasn't kidding, those eyes fascinated any female. They seemed to see through anyone. They always saw someone's true intentions. Yet, while they analyzed a soul, they held a haunted soul.

He remained quiet for a long time, just staring ahead towards the opposite wall. He couldn't believe he was actually considering telling her. Even Coulson didn't know about his father. He knew everything from age twelve and up. "Yes."

He felt her hand on his shoulder and chose to ignore it. "Clint, all of it?"

He nodded. "Every last fricken thing."

She shook her head, trying to make him smile. "You weren't kidding, you actually learned in a circus. Who taught you?"

He shook his head. "Trickshot and Swordsman, they-it's easier to start at the beginning. Nat, I haven't even told Coulson half of this."

She suddenly felt horrible for invading his privacy. _Stupid feather brain making me feel guilty. Black Widow doesn't feel guilt_. She told herself. "Clint, you don't have to." She whispered, hand on his knee. What the hell was wrong with her? Why couldn't she look away from those blue scarred orbs?

"You're right, I know your past. It's only fair. I guess I have to start with my childhood. I grew up in a butcher shop with a small attic acting as my older brother's room and mine. Mom did cocaine, Dad was an alcoholic. They lost the shop when I was six. We moved into the trailer park and lived off of welfare. Dad still worked but he came home drunk. He wasn't a happy drunk either. I," she watched him swallow. "I could do anything and everything to stay away from him, but nothing worked. I tried hiding under the trailer, that earned me the belt. I tried hiding in the park, that earned me his cigarette. I started hiding in trees, and on roofs and I figured out Dad couldn't find me. No one ever looks up."

She looked at him, seeing tears of pain and something else in his eyes. Regret? Fear? She couldn't tell. She wondered if it was the same look she had in her eyes when she talked about her past.

"Mom and Dad died when I was twelve. Barney, my older brother, and I spent a year in the orphanage before running away to the local circus. Wipe the smirk off your face, Romanoff." He said, not even needing to look at her. He was leaning forward, hands clasped together. She recognized the position, it was the one where he was trying to looked relaxed. "We worked hard jobs for a year before fate found me and left him in the dust."

She smirked, he was starting to have fun telling her about his life. "What do you mean?"

"Barney and I were cleaning the tent with a couple of other hands and they found a knife and targets laying around and started playing with it. I've always wondered if they were left there on purpose. I just kind of hid back and continued working while the others messed with it. They all failed, and when Barney couldn't do it I laughed. He threw it in my hands and said to give it a shot. I did."

"A perfect hit?" She asked, smirking. She saw a speck of blood on his arm and went to wipe it with leftover sheets from yesterday.

"Not even close. I skimmed the top. Barney mumbled something along the lines of it's harder than it looks. Then Swordsman revealed himself and told me to stay and the others to scram. Next thing I know I'm not cheap labor anymore, I'm training in acrobatics and in weapons usage." He said, shaking his head and watching her blurred hand wipe blood from his arm. "Did you know I can you use a sword? They're just too hard to conceal."

She chuckled. "You really do belong in the Middle Ages. Where did the archery come in?" She questioned, wondering how a circus kid could become her Hawkeye. "Who gave you the name Hawkeye?"

"Trickshot. He was Swordsman's right hand, I was the left. He and Swordsman wanted to make me the ultimate _attraction_ and halfway through being fourteen, he did just that. Trickshot began to train me in archery and it took me a six months to hit the target bulls eyes, dead center. I came extremely close, but not dead center. After the first hit, Trickshot wouldn't let me take a break until I did that ten times in a row, when that became easy, twenty times, and it kept increasing. After I hit one hundred, he named me Hawkeye. I loved to be in high places and hit the target, and I was only fifteen so he called me Hawkeye kid. It became my stage name."

She rolled her eyes. "That comment about them both wanting to kill you?"

He sighed. "Trouble in paradise, right. It was the day before my eighteenth birthday. I found Swordsman stealing money from the owner, and he cornered me and I told him I wouldn't be his partner in crime. He let me walk away and I went and told the owner. The owner didn't believe me, and said I should go practice. So I got the bright idea to practice the trapeze wire."

"Go one." She whispered, noticing the anger in his tone.

His eyes became cloudy. "Jacques came in and said no hard feelings and he helped me practice. I was stupid and believed him. He ended up shoving me off the wire and leaving me for dead. Told everyone I committed suicide since I accused him of stealing. They believed him, everyone except my brother and Trickshot. Barney left me saying I should have taken Swordsman's offer. Trickshot was the only one there for me, until I accidently shot Barney in a robbery at some crooks house. I refused to leave him, and Trickshot shot me a few times and again I found myself being left for dead by my mentor."

His tone was so bitter, so full of regret, that she found her hand on his cheek. He glanced at her, seeing her own blue eyes staring at him. "Nat," he mumbled, face so close to hers that he could feel her breath.

"Were you really married?" She asked.

"Yes, only for two years. It would have lasted, but shit happens. I left Bobbi, still talk to her once every couple months. We were too different and I was just starting SHIELD while she was leaving." He mumbled, staring down at her. Natasha was very different from Bobbi. Bobbi was blond, curvy, skinny, and a girl next door. She was intelligent, loving, and too nice for him. Natasha was a redhead with curves and muscles. Unlike Bobbi, Natasha would kick his ass in a heartbeat. He was more similar to Natasha. "Nat, we shouldn't."

"I know." She whispered, fighting that stupid childish emotion that she hadn't felt in seven years. Truly, she never felt this. Alexei was an arranged marriage, and while she did love him, something was different right now.

Throwing caution to the wind for once in either of their lives, her lips met his, and from that moment she realized she was in love with her partner. She was one of those girls that fell for those stormy blue eyes that saw through a person and right into their soul. She couldn't deny that his muscles and eight pack abs made her drool slightly. The blonde boyish hair, that sweet smile, the way he moved in a fight, she loved everything.

She actually fell for the stupid American archer who had saved her from the KGB.

She had never been so scared.

**Review replies:**

**PrincessMnMz: **Ha, that's pretty much it for punishment. Although, I'm really not in nice to him in the two stories I'm working on.

**Blue-Songbirds: **Ahhhh! I am :)

**Sarcastic Musician: **Well, I'm not doing anything with KGB since these are more one shots that interconnect, but as for what he whispered, it's up to you. I like to let people imagine sometimes. I almost made him take out both of Clint's hearing aids, but it was hard to do with this chapter.

**Guest: **You have no idea how much that means. I'm always terrified their OOC.


	5. One Year

**Ah, you guys keep making me feel better about this. So, this is the last chapter until we reach movie stuff. The next chapter is about that detox part with the actual movie stuff and my original stuff. **

**NOTE: Since we finished the two Budapest chapters, I want to explain something. When writing Budapest, there is something everyone or nearly everyone forgets: when Natasha says that line. The reason you read that ambush scene in the first part, is because that's the connection between the movie line and my Budapest. You'll see it in a few chapters.**

"I need a mission." Natasha Romanoff stated with a glare at her handler, Phil Coulson. She had just barged into his office in an unorthodox, uncharacteristically way.

It had been a week since Budapest, and it had been mass chaos since. Clint was still having blurred vision, Natasha was more emotionless and uptight than usual, and Coulson wanted to bang his head against the wall. Fury had assigned him to a new, well kind of new, experiment. Fury wanted Coulson's "untouchable" pair to delve into a new experiment called the Avengers Initiative. Problem was, his "untouchable" pair didn't exist right now, and not just because Barton was blind. The two were acting like teenagers.

This is why Phil Coulson wanted to bang his head against the wall when Natasha barged into his office. He was sitting comfortably in his office with his feet on the desk, laptop in his lap, and coffee to his right on his desk when Romanoff decides to just barge in and demand a mission. He needed more than a non-existent warning, especially when dealing with an irritated and work-deprived Black Widow. "Hmm, that's nice."

Her eyes narrowed as he continued to stare at his screen, observing something. She looked down at the laptop, raising an eyebrow. "Tony Stark?"

"How can someone so smart be so stupid?" Coulson question, shaking his hands.

She didn't dignify him with a response.

"We hand him a cue card and he turns it to an invitation to announce he is Iron Man. Why in the hell should he be in the team?" Coulson continued ranting.

"What team?" She asked, semi-interested.

He took a drink of his coffee before setting it back down. "Hmm, a super-secret team."

Natasha rolled her blue eyes, staring at her childish handler and giving him a look that said did-you-really-just-say-that? She gave that look to Barton a lot. Barton._ Stop, you're separating yourself from that man. Budapest never happened. You just got off recruit probation, there were no missions with Barton_. She told herself.

He glanced at her. "I've been taking care of Barton too much. I'm starting to sound like him, aren't I?"

She nodded.

"He should be alright. Still can't see like our normal Hawkeye, but he should be able to in a month. That shoulder worries me, but he's come back from worse. The bullet infection is nearly gone, thank God. I've seen him hallucinate, it's not something you want to see. His ribs are getting better, and bruises are slowly disappearing, although the doctors are so irritated with him he might get a few more. You two in an infirmary. You make the nurses cry and the doctors timid, he annoys them to death." Coulson shook his head, closing the clip and bringing up another.

"I hate being confined. Speaking of which, do you have a mission for me? I really need a mission." She stated, sitting down in one of the chairs.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Alright, what the hell happened?"

"Sir?" She asked, pretending to be confused.

"You usually don't leave his side when he's injured, now you're asking for a mission? What happened in Budapest besides torture which I know you two can handle?" Coulson asked.

"Nothing sir, he'll be fine and I need to get out of this helicaire." She answered.

He shook his head, not buying it. "What happened?"

"Nothing." She growled.

"Bullshit. I'm not giving you a mission until I get an answer. You two are acting like teenagers." Coulson stated.

She sighed, pretending to be defeated. "Look, Phil, I just need some space. I need some missions by myself for a bit."

Phil Coulson wasn't buying it, but he chose to ignore it since he had a mission for her anyway. He picked up the file that was under his laptop and handed it to her. "Venice, Italy."

She went through it. "Who and why?"

"Antonio Ricco, a perfect, polished, charismatic, successful lawyer who has put one hundred and counting innocent people in prison, bumped off at least fifty, and slave traded thirty. Italy had their chance to take care of it, but they didn't. He has enslaved too many tourist for SHIELD's liking. Get close, get his contacts, kill him, get out." Coulson said, glancing at the laptop screen. "You have a month. Your code name is Natalya Ruff, a simple American tourist. Follow him, watch the mob members, and get close to him. He is married and a notorious adulterous. Rumored wife abuser too so be cautious."

"I can do this in a week." She stated, looking up at Coulson.

"Do it in a month. Spend some time in Italy. Make sure you are back by May 5th." Coulson stated, going back to analyzing Tony Stark.

"Why?" She questioned, wondering what he had up his sleeve.

"Because you're going to spend an entire day in debriefing with Hill, Fury, and I. Then, you'll be Ms. Virginia Potts's assistant. She has no idea who you are." Coulson explained.

"Potts? Tony Stark's assistant? You want me to spy on Tony Stark?" She asked, a smile playing across her lips.

He nodded, staring at her. "Can you handle that, Romanoff?"

"He'll be like putty in my hands." She purred.

Coulson actually chuckled. "I know. Go get a check-up then pre-mission exam. I'll give you the full debriefing when I'm done. If I'm not in here just page me."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

"I'm cleared!" Clint said, throwing the doctor's note at Coulson.

Natasha had been gone for a month, and Barton wasn't stupid. He knew what the sudden disappearance meant. Part of him cursed her for being so scared of Budapest, the other half wanted to do the same thing. He didn't let people get that close. He could count the people that close to him on one hand. Natasha and Coulson. He use to have Bobbi, Barney, Trickshot, Jacques, and Jorge all on that list. First one, divorce. Second, abandoned him for not going with the fourth's offer. Third one, threatened to kill him after he refused to come with him. Forth one, tried to kill him. Fifth one was more his fault, but whatever.

Point is, he never let anyone get this close. And her running off was why. They always abandoned him. He was waiting for Coulson to.

Coulson smirked at him from his relaxed position. "Great, I have a job that needs your eyes. Are they back?"

"Perfect sir." Clint said, looking like a child in a candy store.

"Shoulder?" Coulson asked.

"Straight shot. You know me, that doesn't stop me." Clint said with a sly grin.

"Good. I need you in New Mexico. It's time I told you about the Avengers Initiative." Coulson said, standing up. "Let's go talk to Fury."

"Why?" Clint asked, following him down to the main briefing room.

"Because it's Fury's pet project. The council squashed it." Coulson explained.

"Does Fury ever listen to the council?" Clint asked, unaware that said man was in the room.

"For your information _Agent Barton_, I do listen occasionally, but they make a lot of stupid ass decisions. Would you prefer I listen to them? If I did that you would be burned and Romanoff dead." Fury snapped at him.

"_Director Fury_, do I ever listen to authority? Why would I suggest you listen to their stupid ass decisions?" Clint asked, smirking.

Fury stepped extremely close and stared Clint down. The agent was very good at hiding his nervousness. "Only I get to call them stupid ass decisions, Barton. Why are you two here?"

Clint rolled his eyes at the director.

Coulson gave him a sharp look. "The Avengers Initiative, sir. You need to explain it to Barton. We're sending him to New Mexico."

"Oh goody." Director Fury said sarcastically. "Hill, my office now! It's AI time!"

* * *

"A superhero team? You want Tony Stark in this?" Natasha Romanoff asked the director. Agent Hill stood in the corner and observed like she usually did. Coulson was with Barton in New Mexico, apparently Thor had just landed.

"Yes, I know he's obnoxious but-"

"That's generous, Hill." She said, interrupting.

She didn't even twitch at Hill's glare.

"Anyway, that Iron Man suit is extremely valuable to this team. Stark, is the only one who can handle it." Fury explained. "He will not hand it over. The Senate wants him to, but it won't happen. Get in, get his tower's layout, get me every angle, every security feed you can, and get out. I want you to analyze him, figure out what makes him tick. Figure out how we can get him on this team."

"How are we going to get him to agree?" She asked.

"That's where you come in." Fury insisted. "From what we can see, he has a condition. We believe his arc reactor is killing him."

"The thing meant to save him is killing him. What trick do we have up our sleeve?" She questioned.

"Howard Stark, his father, left some… materials. We need Stark to create them. One of them just might be his new arc reactor." Hill answered. "One that won't kill him."

"So I go in as Potts's secretary, get Stark to eat out of my palm, watch his every move, break into the Tower's security, and protect them all. Sounds easy. All it takes is a push up bra, skirt, low cut shirt, flirting, and a few guns. I could do it in my sleep." She said, shrugging.

"This is why it's your mission." Fury stated.

"Why else?" She asked. "He's not hard to manipulate. Any trained seductress could do this. Why me?"

"Because I'm telling you it's you." Fury said, leaning forward across the desk.

She leaned in so she was inches from his face. "Why me?" She repeated slowly.

Fury glared at her, cursing Coulson and his _She's perfect for us. Would you rather Russia have her back? Come on Nick, they're an untouchable pair._ Damn Coulson and his damn good agents. "You and Hawkeye are our eyes and ears into the Avengers. You'll be two of the six."

She leaned back, smirking. "We're mortal."

"And arguably more deadly than all four of them combined." Hill stated.

Natasha gave that killer, not stunning, smile. The one she saved for an evil thought. "Alright, I'll do it. Who are the other two? Tony, Thor, Barton, and I."

Hill and Fury exchanged looks before answering. "Dr. Bruce Banner and Steve Rodgers."

Of course she had heard of them, they were hoping she hadn't. Her face scrunched into confusion. "The Hulk? Not the best call but it's yours. As for _Captain America_, he's been dead for seventy years. Can you resurrect someone, Fury?"

"He crashed into the ice. We just found him, still alive. He woke up after we took him out of the ice." Hill explained.

She snorted. "Coulson has to love that."

Fury actually fought a smile. "We'll tell him when he gets back from New Mexico. Go get ready, Romanoff."

* * *

And that's how it all started. Budapest happened, and then they were so scared of the emotions they were feeling, that they both fled. They would have kept avoiding each other, but something happened. Natasha went to examine Tony Stark for the Avengers Initiative, and Clint went and observed Thor for the same. Natasha had Stark eating out of her hand like putty, and Clint never fired a shot at Thor. Natasha came home from Malibu with a negative on Stark for the Initiative, and went to Paris to take on an artist who was doing shady business. Clint came back from New Mexico and realized it had been three months. He was sent to take out a drug queen in Cuba. Natasha came back from Paris when he had left, and when he was back, she was in Los Vegas. Six months had gone by since they saw each other. Natasha went to Moscow for a two and a half month mission, before relaxing for a month. Barton had gone to Bagdad for some Delta running. He got back after two months. It been ten months. Natasha was undercover in Germany, and he was watching the teseract. Eleven and a half months until Natasha got that call.

_Barton's been compromised_.

Three words to bring Budapest all back. One word that had such a different meaning. For Coulson, it meant one of his agents wasn't in control of his or her own operation. For Clint, it meant he was a mindless slave. For Natasha, it depended on how she used it. In that scene, it meant her partner wasn't in control. Actually, it always meant someone wasn't in control.

She snapped at the enemies, knowing the Initiative had started. That didn't matter though. She could care less about the Avengers. She just wanted her partner back.

**sibunagirl-0331: thanks! **

**Isy: I'm sorry I don't show the escape, but I mention how Coulson was on his way by the time Clint's blinded. Sorry! And I will call you Isy, because Guest makes it seem like it's some random person when I'm guessing it's always been you. As far as his eyes go, that's why I chose nail polish, because I know you can bounce back from it and your sight returns from you.**

**FemaleMusketeer: I haven't heard of it, and I couldn't find it. But thank you!**

**Sarcastic Musician: Coffee is always helpful :)**

**PrincessMnMZ: Well, thank you, but I'm warning you, they're not my best. I'm actually redoing both, but like everything, I finish before I publish so I'm not one of those people who leave it alone for months or longer.**


	6. Detox

**Disclaimer: I believe superheroes are real in NYC. Unlike someone ;)**

Natasha Romanoff stared at her partner. He was shaking, grunting with pain and excursion. He kept bucking against the restraints, and it took all her will power not to run over and let him go. He needed to fight this. He kept shaking his head and grunting, obviously trying to get the demi-god out of his mind. It was like the time a spell had been put on him and he kept experiencing nightmares that would leave him shaking. That was in New Orleans, where she had to set back and watch him fight it himself. Every time she interrupted his nightmare got worse.

"Clint, you're going to be alright." She said, voice emotionless. She stared at him, forcing herself to keep emotions in check. She needed to be strong for him, for both of them.

His face scrunched up in pain, and she almost screamed for joy when she saw his eyes open to reveal his beautiful blue and gray orbs. His eyes were haunted, but they were his. "You know that?" He asked, his voice rough. He pulled on the restraints against his wrists, glaring at them in annoyance. "Is that what _you_ know?"

She knew the world was spinning by the way he kept blinking. She also knew where he was going with that question, and it broke her heart, but her face still remained emotionless just like his. She stood up and went to the restraints. His head was tilted up and his face was scrunched in pain. He was sweating bullets and he grunted "I got- I gotta go in. I gotta flush him out."

"You gotta level out, it's going to take time." She said, leaving the restraints and pouring him a glass of water. She couldn't meet his eyes. Not because of the fight, but because his eyes were full of pain. She could handle the fight, it actually made her smug that she had beaten him, since he had beaten her last time. Yet, she hated seeing him in pain. She had ever since Budapest.

"Ah, you don't understand." He hissed, trying to distract himself from the pain. "Have you ever had someone take your brain and play with it? Pull you out? Stuff something else in?" He paused, eyes wide and haunted. She had never seen him like this. Her Hawkeye was strong, quiet, and intelligent. He was sarcastic, a smart ass, and her perfect pair of eyes. This, this wasn't her Hawk. She wanted to gut Loki for this, especially when Clint whispered the next sentence.

"Do you know what it's like to be unmade?"

She breathed in and glanced at him from where she stood over the pitcher. Her hand tightened around the cup. He knew she did. The Red Room, the KGB, Alexei's death, the hospital fire, he knew what those events did to her. "You know that I do." Her voice cracked slightly, and she met his eyes.

He was alright, just taking deep breaths and trying to slow his heart rate. "Why am I here?" He asked, confusing her.

She only had to think for a few seconds before she realized what he meant. Why was he alive? He was already starting his guilt trip. She knew he would. That was another thing about Clint, he refused to not have a heart. He had hated himself for those mercenary years, and he refused to be as cold and as heartless as he used to be.

She didn't answer him, just stared.

He glanced off to his right, eyebrow raised. "How did you get him out?"

"Cognitive recalibration. I hit you really hard on the head." She said with a small smile.

"Thanks." He replied.

He usually scowled or cursed at her when she hit him in the head.

She looked at him with confusion before setting her face in worry. She sat down on the edge of the bed and stared at him. She began to undo the restraints, glad he wouldn't hurt himself. "Tasha, how many agents-"

"Don't." She snapped, meeting his eyes while straddling his body. Her hands clenched onto the left wrist restraint. She shook her head. "Don't do that to yourself, Clint." She saw him look away with anger and shame in his eyes. "This is Loki. This is monsters and magic and nothing we were ever trained for."

That's what scared her. There wasn't much she hadn't been trained for. In fact, she could count the things she wasn't trained for on one hand. She knew he was almost the same way. They were the best in SHIELD, and they didn't know what to do. She hated not knowing what to do.

"Loki. He get away?" He asked, meeting her eyes again.

She cocked her head. "Don't suppose you know where?"

"Didn't need to know. Didn't ask." He responded, watching her walk over to the door's window. She stared out it, as if Loki would appear and she could kill him right there. Clint sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Gonna make his play soon though." He said, taking a drink of the water while swallowing the medication she had left him for his killer headache. "Today."

Standing by the door and watching the window, she twisted around instantly with her full attention on him. "We gotta stop him."

_No shit_. He thought, looking at her. "Yeah, who's we?"

She gave a frustrated shrug and hoped he meant who's in the team, and not if it was her and him. Stupid Budapest. "I don't know. Whoever's left."

He nodded. "Well, if I put an arrow through Loki's eye socket I'd sleep better, I suppose."

She gave a real smile and sat down by him. It wasn't a teeth smile, just her special smile for him. The one were her eyes glimmered and her mouth moved in an small smile. She nodded. "Now you sound like you."

"But you don't." He said quickly, meeting her eyes again.

Leave it to Barton to know when something was wrong with her. He truly did see things no else did. His hawk eye's saw inside anyone's soul, saw their real emotions. That's what happened in Madrid, where he had first saved her. He saw inside her. The exterior was a cool, calm, collected, vicious, manipulative, and born spy. The inside was a haunted, guilt ridden, scared, lost, and desperate little girl. No one until Clint Barton had seen that little girl.

She remembered that day like it way yesterday. She had been dancing on the floor with her target, making him eat out of the palm of her hand. She saw a blonde man, most likely English or American, convince her target he was the grandson of an old friend. The man ate it up and smiled at the young blonde. He left her, and the blonde follow her to the punch bowl and ask her for a dance. Natasha was scowling at him and refused. He then used her code name, making it known that he knew her. She agreed to a dance and he took her hand and began to dance the tango. She had already profiled him as charming, intelligent, and easy to manipulate. She had been wrong on the last one as he spun her around and told her about his offer for a better life and a way to clean her ledger.

"You're a spy, not a soldier." He continued, oblivious to her flashback. She couldn't look at him as he stared at her face. "Now you want to wade into a war. Why? What did Loki do to you?"

There was more anger in his words than she'd heard in a very long time. To anyone, it would sound like a sergeant asking a soldier something, authority full in his voice, but she knew better. It wasn't the this-bastard-made-me-into-a-puppet tone, it was the this-bastard-did-something-to-my-partner-and-I'm-going-to-make-him-pay tone. She only heard it on missions when she was hurt and the person who hurt her was still alive.

"He didn't…I just…" She paused and glanced at the floor. She turned her head and stared straight with a sigh.

"Natasha," he began gently.

"I've been compromised." She said with a huff.

He gave a small smile and nodded. "Hmm."

She turned her head to see him smirking and staring straight. _It's not funny, Barton. Wipe that smirk off your face. This is your fault. _"I got red on my ledger."

He turned his head to meet hers. Both knew what was running through his head.

_So do I_.

"I'd like to wipe it out." She whispered.

"What do you call the past four years?" He asked her.

"I'd call it smearing the ledger and letting a little bit drop off the edge." She responded, staring at him with soft blue eyes.

He put his hand on her knee, "I call it cleaning your ledger. I've just smeared mine. Hell I've managed to make mine twice as big in the past week."

She shook her head, hand on the base of his jaw. "Don't do that to yourself, Clint."

"Doesn't matter if it was my head or not, it was still my _body. My hands_ that let those people die. I can't look at my hands without seeing red." He said, shaking his head and glancing at the bathroom. He felt nauseous, sick to his stomach, and the meds weren't helping with his headache.

"Barton," she whispered, using _that_ tone. That tone he heard in Budapest before a night of passion while in an enclosed room with his vision gone and his shooting arm infected with a bullet wound. That tone that also ended up in them working separate and not seeing each other in a year.

He loved and hated that tone.

"Tasha', why did you come? I thought we weren't working together ever again." He stated, glancing at her.

She stared forward towards the door. "I never said that."

"You didn't need to. The missions in Venice, Malibu, Paris, Los Vegas, Moscow, then Berlin were enough." He responded.

"Barton, stop being difficult." She hissed playfully.

He gave a humorless chuckle. "_I'm_ difficult. Look in the mirror, Romanoff."

"Carnie." She hissed.

"Commie." He responded, standing up.

"Hillbilly." She said, using the word she had no definition of.

"Whore." He said, actually getting into it.

She remained silent and walked close to him. "Puppet."

"Bitch." He responded, watching her approach him. He backed away towards the bathroom door. "Hah, you're off your game, Romanoff. That's the second time in a row I've won and they weren't even good."

She raised her eyebrow as his back hit the bathroom door. "_I'm_ off _my_ game? Aren't you supposed to always know where you are going, Clinton?"

He rolled his eyes, her face very close to his "I did."

She nodded, putting her hands on his face. "How about I show you how much I believe Loki is out of you?"

He stared at her blue eyes. "Budapest, Nat."

She smirked and kissed him, glad he returned it. His arms went around her waist while hers around his neck. An electric shock went through her veins and she knew neither of them could just forget Budapest. It was what they always wanted. Now, they had it.

She only pulled away when she heard footsteps coming down the hallway. "Get in the bathroom, clean up. We're leaving." She whispered softly.

He smirked and disappeared into the bathroom while she walked back over to the bed just in time for Captain to appear in full stars and stripes uniform.

"Time to go." Captain said, staring at Natasha.

"Go where?" She asked, regaining composure.

"I'll tell you on the way. Can you fly one of those jets?" Captain asked her.

Clint walked back into the room with a smirk on his face. He was wiping his hands on the towel. She could tell he still saw red but to anyone else, he looked calm and collected. His smirk was full of arrogance that she knew was false. "I can."

Captain looked at him, then back at Natasha who nodded. That was the first time Captain America noticed that this wasn't going to be Natasha only. It was both or none. Whatever or whoever Barton was, he was going where Natasha was and she was going where he was. He wondered who this man was that could break through the Black Widow. He shook his head and stared at Barton. "Got a suit?"

Barton nodded. "Yeah."

"Then suit up." He ordered before twisting around and leaving the room.

She smirked and threw his compound bow at him. "You're suit's in the bathroom above the sink. Arrows are on our way to the jet. Let's go my hawk. Are you ready for a war?"

He smiled down at his bow like it was a child. A very lethal, very deadly, very accurate child. "This isn't a war, it's a turning point battle."

**I love that last line. **

**Sheikagal: **thanks! I love when someone tells me they're in character.

**PrincessMnMz: **I won't! Thanks!

**Isey: **raw emotion? That's a new one, but I love it.

**Sarcastic Musician: **Here it is!


	7. Just Like Budapest

**Ahh! Thank you all so much!**

"We've got civilians trapped in there." Tony said into the com as he flew through the air.

Captain landed by Natasha and him. He was actually looking at them for permission. Hawkeye almost snorted. He and Natasha exchanged a look before jumping into battle. Her short hair was hanging perfectly around her face. Her eyes were excited and determined. Firing two guns and standing her ground while things exploded around her, Clint realized why he thought she was so beautiful.

"Permission to barrel down there?" Captain asked.

Clint ducked behind another taxi and watched the approaching aliens.

He saw Natasha look at Captain with that are-you-an-idiot look that only Clint could read. "We got this. It's good. Go." She ordered, not trusting herself to not make a snarky comment. Actually, she trusted she wouldn't, Clint was a whole other story though.

"You think that you can hold them off?" Captain asked.

Clint wanted to say something sarcasticbut Natasha's eyes narrowing stopped him. So instead what came out of his mouth was "Captain, it would be my genuine pleasure." He said it with a smile while snapping up and arching his bow in a five seconds. He let Captain pounder over what he meant, but by the coy smile on Natasha's face, she figured it out. Shaking his head at her he began to let the arrows fly, all hitting his targets. The monsters screamed and fell as he and Natasha unleashed their wraths.

"Clint, the people in the bus!" She yelled about two minutes later.

His eyes left his targets as he continued to fire. Nodding, he ducked out of the battle and began to let the civilians out of the derailed bus. He split the door open and she continued to fire, a smile growing on her lips that was quickly erased as he jumped to her side with his bow already firing. "Just like Budapest all over again." She yelled through the noise.

A smirk, that special Barton smirk, grew on his face. "You and I remember Budapest _very_ differently."

She chuckled. "How do you remember it?"

"Getting nail polish poured down my eyes, you finding out my past, and the night." He said, reminding himself they were on a com. "And what about you, Tasha? How do you remember our last mission?"

She shook her head, the visual of Clint's pain when they poured the nail polish in his eyes clear in her head even a year later. They really hadn't seen each other in a year? They worked in the same damn building/helicopter/submarine whatever it was. "The outnumbering, the firing, the civilians screaming, your story, and the night."

"I see how you think this is Budapest." He said quietly.

"Jesus-" She hissed, seeing an arrow fly in front of her eyes. "Not Madrid!"

He laughed. "Alien was heading for your neck and I didn't even fire at you in Madrid. Remember, I killed you with my charm."

She snorted. "Yeah, keep telling yourself that."

"While this is so touching, get to work love birds!" Stark yelled into the com.

"Stark, we just killed fifty to a hundred. We are working." Clint stated. "Make that to a hundred and twenty."

"Some of us can multitask, Stark." Natasha growled.

The two continued to work, eyes and ears on everything. There were too many, Clint realized after another few minutes. He shook his head and grabbed an exploding arrow. He fired it to the center of the alien mash and pressed a button on his bow. A loud explosion erupted, safely out of their reach. "Tasha', this is useless. They keep replacing what we kill by the tenfold."

Clint, in case I never get to say this again, I enjoyed Budapest, and I'm sorry I ran off like a scared little girl." Natasha said, shaking her head.

He smiled, knowing she was talking about the Budapest as in the night. "I'm sorry I didn't try to follow. I just ran to New Mexico." He snorted. "Never again."

She chuckled. "You are an idiot."

He rolled his eyes and just as things started to let up, he kissed her cheek. Her face flushed before she gave a coy smile and returned the kiss with a quick peck on the lips while he was shooting. She laughed as his eye watched to see if his arrow would go off. He wasn't a perfect shot for nothing though.

"Now it's like Budapest." He said, watching the alien fall and feeling the kiss tingle on his lips. He looked up at the sky and as much as he hated to, he killed the moment. "Nat, look."

She did, eyes wide. Aliens had begun to pour through an open portal. "Guys."

Stark lands next to them, shaking his head and lifting his head plate. He heads across from Romanoff who has taken her gun out and stood shoulder to shoulder with Hawkeye. Captain walks over to him, eyeing the sky as he stands next to Romanoff. Thor and the Hulk also appear, with Hulk standing between Hawkeye and Thor. "Call it, Captain."

Rodgers nods and snaps back into captain mode. "Alright, listen up. Until we can close the portal up there, we're gonna use containment. Barton," he began, turning to the archer who stared at him. "I want you on that roof, eyes on everything. Call out patterns and strays. Stark," next he turned to the man in the iron suit, surpised the egotistical man was listening. "You got the perimeter. Anything gets more than three blocks out, you turn it back or you turn it to ash."

Stark nodded, smiling mischiouvesly. "Ash sounds like fun."

Barton smirked and walked over to him. "Wanna give me a lift?"

Stark shrugged. "Right. Better clench up, Legalos."

Rodgers turns to the other three as the two fly off. "Thor, you gotta try to bottleneck that portal, slow 'em down. You got the lighting, light the bastards up." He smirks as Thor flies off with his hammer. He turns to the Black Widow who looks lethal and wicked. "You and me, we stay her on the ground, keep the fighting here. And Hulk! Smash."

Natasha smirks and runs out into the middle of fire. She begins to kill the monsters with as much ease as someone reading a book. Captain shakes his head and turns the com on so he can hear the team.

"Stark, you've got a lot of strays on your tail." Barton's voice states.

"Just trying to keep them off the streets." Stark says. Captain looks over just in time to catch Natasha's eyes roll.

"Well, they can't bank worth a damn. Find a tight corner." The archer suggests.

"I will, roger that." Stark replies. Captain doesn't see what happens next but he hears Stark whisper "oh, boy" before going silent and only letting the sound of crashes come through the com. Next, Captain hears a low whistle of admiration from the billionaire. "Nice call. What else you got?"

"Well, Thor's taking out a squadron down on sixth." Clint says.

Captain shakes hid and smirks. Looks like he underestimated the archer.

"And he didn't invite me." Stark says with face hurt.

He actually hears a low chuckle from the two assassins. He can't help but smile.

They all continue fighting, and Captain can't help but think they might actually have this. They were all in sync with each other. He didn't think it could happen, but somehow it did. They were fighting like one. Clint was taking out as many as anyone with his arrows, while also barking out orders and sites that he saw for Tony. Tony was making the perimeter safe while listening to Clint and helping Thor. Hulk was smashing. Natasha was taking out as many with her guns and hands and legs. Captain couldn't help but admire her grace and deadliness. He had had his doubts about the two humans, but he saw why Fury stated the two were as deadly as all four of the others combined.

"Captain, none of this is gonna mean a damn thing if we don't close the portal." Natasha stated, appearing next to him.

"Our biggest guns couldn't touch it." He stated with frustration.

"Well, maybe it's not about guns." She suggested with a wicked grin.

"You wanna get up there, you're gonna need a ride." He said, about to call for Stark.

"I got a ride. I could use a boost though." She stated, staring at the machines riding overhead. She smiled sinisterly before looking back down at him.

"You sure about this?" He asked.

"Yeah, it's gonna be fun." She stated, backing backwards before running at him. he used his shield to boost her up in the air and then watched as the Russian grabbed onto a passing vehicle and climbed aboard. She knocked the warrior of and took control.

Captain shook his head. He really wanted to know what the definition of not fun was for those two assassins.

* * *

**Zenbon Zakura: **here's your update!

**Sarcastic Musician:** I never ignore you!

**Isy:** I never really think about them, I just write them how I imagine.

**Shiekagal:** So one word caught my attention: almost. I actually really appreciate you saying 'that was almost perfect' because it seems so much more realalistic than 'that was perfect'. I'm so critical of myself that it makes so much more sense. Thanks!

**PrincessMnMz:** thanks for the review!

**Reasonable Random:** thanks!

**Morgon:** I'm glad you like Budapest, because that was the reason I almost didn't publish this collection.


	8. End of movie

**Attention: This is the second last chapter, and I would like to thank everyone who has reviewed, favorited, and followed. Oh, and read :) Also, go to my poll to vote which I should write/publish next.**

Oh you..." Natasha hissed, trying to direct the crazy machine away from Loki. Loki continued to fire the stupid blue ray at her. _How the hell do you fly this?_ She hissed in her head in her native tongue. She yelped as the machine nearly ran into the tower next to her. Shaking her head, she yanked the controls and began to swerve all over again. She risked a glance over her shoulder and swore again as she saw that Loki was following her with ease. "I need to get to that portal device." She stated into the comm.

"So steer there." Came Stark's sharp reply.

She growled. "I've got a demigod on my ass. Hawkeye!"

From his post Hawkeye let arrows hit their targets blindly as he turned to stare at the two machines and shook his head. _Crazy Russian spies._ He thought. "Nat, what are you doing?" He asked, his voice full of amusement.

"Ah, a little help?" She yelled, panicking.

"A please might be nice." He stated.

"Don't push it, carnie." She growled.

"Why am I always cleaning up your messes?" He smirked and knocked an arrow.

"Bullshit." She snapped. "Hawkeye, I need help now!"

Staring down the arrow, he watched the devices in the far distant. Too far for a regular person to see, then again, Clint was human but he was far from a regular person. He smiled sinisterly as Loki appeared closer with Natasha right in front of him. "I got him, but on my count, jump onto that building where the machine is. I'm sending him up in smoke."

She smirked. "On your mark."

"One, two," He smirked and let the arrow fly. "Jump!"

Loki caught it, just like Clint knew he would.

"I thought you didn't miss!" Stark yelled, watching the two through one of the suit's camera's.

"I don't." Clint stated. He smiled coldly as his eyes briefly met the demigods. Loki looked momentarily confused before he discovered why Clint was smiling so sinisterly. The arrow in his hand exploded and threw him onto the roof of a tower.

"Oh, wow. Good job, Legalos." Stark mumbled, giving credit to where it was due. "Hey, if we live through this, can I look at those arrow tips? Those are some cool toys I could come up with."

"Hell no." Clint answered, watching as his redheaded partner abandoned ship and smoothly landed on the roof. Shaking his head, he smiled and went back to work. He was being ambushed by these damn aliens. He began to stab, punch, kick, fire-

Oh crap.

No arrows left but the one in his hand. He kicked the last alien over the ledge and twisted around. A herd of them were flying straight towards him.

Well, that settled it.

Twisting around he began to run, but not before pressing the button on his bow that would allow the used arrows to explode. The building behind him went up in balls of yellow as Clint jumped over the ledge. He could hear the explosion roaring in his ears as an example of why he was eighty percent death. The heat of the waves reminded him of a fire he had once been trapped in, but the best sensation he felt: falling.

"Stark, catch-" Natasha cut off, seeing the arrow Clint was using. "Damn it, Clint. How many times have I said not to do that?"

"It's fun." He said, twisting in the air just like he had when he was fourteen. He let his last arrow, one of his hook ones, connect with its designated target. He felt the wire catch him, and he watched as he headed right for a window.

Natasha shook her head. "Only you, Clint. Only you."

She heard the tall tale signs that Barton had crashed through a window again. She had heard it so many times that she could recite every step. First, the glass would shatter around him. Next, the sound of Clint's body hitting the ground would echo in her head. Third, he would moan in pain before grunting as he struggled to get up. Shattered glass: check. Echo in her head, check. Moaning, yup there it was. Lastly, a grunt, good sign. He'd be fine.

"Barton, you okay?" She asked, knowing the answer. She shook her head, feeling way out of her league for once in her life. She had no idea what she was supposed to do with this thing. She wasn't a techy person. She knew technology but not this. Like she told Clint, this was magic and monsters and things they had never been trained for.

"Ow." He mumbled into the com. "I'm good."

"This is why I tell you not to crash through the window. Last time you cut your leg to the bone in the middle of Berlin." She said, trying to break the portal and take some frustration out on her partner. Suddenly, she smiled. _That's it!_ She screamed silently, her eyes wide as she tapped her earpiece. "I can close it. Can anybody copy? I can shut the portal down."

"Do it!" Captain snapped.

"No, wait!" Tony yelled before she could make a move.

Natasha closed her eyes and shook her head. She allowed herself to zero her thoughts and senses on the team. She heard Captain's grunts and collapses as the old time patriot continued to fight. She could hear Tony instructing Jarvis and making a selfless decision. She could hear the cries from the Hulk as the monster continued to be blasted by the aliens. She could even hear Thor slowly losing strength with each breath. Most of all, she could hear Clint's groans. He hadn't gotten up yet.

When she started caring so much about four people she wasn't sure. In fact, she hated Stark after Malibu. Her Russian side came out with Captain, but she respected him and Bruce. Thor she knew nothing about other than what Clint had written in the New Mexico file. So, why did she care about these four? Bah, the past week had been emotional. First Barton comes back into her life via Coulson saying he was compromised. Then she found Banner, then she had to meet with Stark and Captain. Next came Loki pissing her off and maybe slightly making her nervous. Then the Hulk scared her. Then she fought Clint with terror and anger at Loki. After knocking Clint unconscious, she had heard of Coulson's death and been hit with the same grief she had after Alexei's death, except the uncontrollable rage wasn't there. After that she went and stayed with Coulson's greatest legacy, Clint. The rest, well that was history. She had probably felt more emotion in the past week than she had the past year.

"Stark, these things are still coming." Captain insisted.

"I've got a nuke coming in. It's going to blow in less than a minute. And I know just where to put it." Tony said slowly.

Natasha cursed the council in every language she knew. Damn them and their stupid ass decisions. Like a nuke was really going to solve anything.

"Stark, you know that's a one way trip." Captain said slowly and with great concern.

"Save the rest for the return, J." Tony ordered, ignoring them. They heard him respond to Jarvis with a "mind as well."

Natasha stared up at Tony with hope in her eyes. She smiled with joy as he let the nuke fly through the portal. _My God, Tony Stark just actually did something selfless_. She thought as she heard Thor and Steve cheer. "Come one, Stark." She whispered, actually hoping the man would reappear.

A loud boom and still no Stark.

"Close it." The Captain said after a few silent moments. His voice was so full of regret that Natasha almost flinched.

She thrust the blade into the machine and closed the portal.

"Son of a gun." Captain said with a smile.

Natasha looked up and smiled as she saw Tony falling through the sky. Then, like her teammates, she noticed something.

"He's not slowing down." Thor replied, twisting his hammer.

She watched the Hulk catch Tony and somewhat, or not, gently put him on the ground.

Nothing but silence through the com system. Everyone waiting with hope to see if the billionaire would wake up. Finally, just as they were all losing hope, the Hulk let out a terrifying roar.

The billionaire sprang to life. "Ah! What the hell? What just happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me." Stark's voice said, panicking.

"We won." Captain said, a small smile on his face.

Natasha had to smile her greatest smile. They actually won. She ignored Tony's rant about getting some foreign food. She only caught Thor's voice. "We are not done."

She knew what they meant.

* * *

She saw Clint standing and leaning against the hallway. She smiled at him and he smiled back. She could tell he was exhausted. Glass sparkled in his hair and no doubt in his uniform. His eyes were drooping close and he looked ready to collapse any second, yet his stance was still strong. "See, I'm up."

She rolled her eyes and kissed his cheek quickly. "I liked the exploding arrow."

He chuckled, letting her pick some glass out of his hair. "I thought you might."

"You cut yourself up badly again." She whispered.

Shrugging lightly he smiled. "So did you."

"Guess we are just human. Painfully, breathtakingly, human." She recited Coulson's words.

"I'm going to miss him." Clint whispered, his forehead against hers. By now, he had figured out on his own that Coulson was gone. He knew if he wasn't Natasha or Fury would have told him. _Always assume the worst_. Coulson had once told him.

"I know, I will too, but you and him… remember, he's always going to be watching over you. He's literally a guardian angel now." She replied, putting her hands on his face and kissing him. She pulled away and whipped around when she heard the other four coming. Glancing at Clint, she saw his face had gone emotionless and he looked like the typical Hawkeye.

"Hawkeye!" Captain yelled as he met the archer in the hall with the rest of the team.

"Yeah, Captain?" Clint asked.

"I think it's only right that you go hold an arrow to his face." Captain said, smiling.

Clint grinned slowly.

* * *

Natasha knew how much it meant for him. She knew she should let Clint fire an arrow into Loki's eye. She knew he needed to. He needed to for those agents, for Erik, for Coulson, and mostly, for himself. Yet, the fear in Loki's eyes was enough, because Clint didn't let go, and when they grabbed Loki, Clint stood up and the demigod shivered. Natasha put a hand on his arm, somehow proud of her hawk. She knew Coulson would be too, and she was willing to bet that was why Clint didn't fire. Coulson used to say vengeance wasn't always an answer because it didn't make anyone come back to life. "Come on, let's finish this."

He glanced down at her with sad eyes but nodded.

"He'd be proud." She whispered as they followed the team.

* * *

**sibunagirl-0331:** That's what I was aiming for! Thanks!

**Reasonably Random: **Thanks for the review:

**Morgon:** Glad you like!

**Sarcastic Muscian:** I'm not sure if this is what you were talking about, but I hope so. By the way, like the comment about action. Writing action scenes is super hard for me for some reason.

**Sheikagal:** I'm curious on the plot things. Thanks for the review!

**PrincessMnMz: **Thanks for another review!

**Winged**** Demi-God**: Aw, shucks.


	9. End

"I'm so tired." He mumbled, crashing on her couch in her tiny apartment.

She nodded. "Me too."

"I'm going to sleep." He stated, closing his eyes.

"Ah, not yet! Take your boots off, go shower, and then let me clean up the wounds that you clearly have considering I can see the glass still in your hair." She ordered, standing over him.

He cracked an eye open. "This is why I never came over. You're like an over protective-"

"Finish that sentence and I will shove some of that glass further into you." She growled, waiting for him to get off her couch. "Get off my leather couch _now_. You're getting blood on it."

"Fine." He grumbled, taking his boots off and throwing them on the mat by her door. He asked over his shoulder. "What am I supposed to change into?"

She continued bandaging up her own wounds. "Spare clothes for you in the dresser." She stated, thinking nothing of it. They hid clothes at each other's apartment for emergencies or situations like this. They also hid medical kits, which she grabbed from under the couch. She then grabbed the vacuum, knowing she'd have to clean up the glass.

Truthfully, she knew Clint could handle this on his own. He could easily get the glass out and fix the few broken bones, she just knew he wouldn't. She could still see him taking a guilt trip, and the Avengers weren't helping. They hadn't spoken at all during the meal. Natasha and Clint had exchanged one of their silent conversations while he had his leg up as if stating she was his.

She'd have to bring that up.

He walked out of the bathroom and fell back down on the couch. He was now in gray sweats with no shirt. The cuts all over his chest were obvious as he had been able to remove some of the glass but the pink lines looked fresh. God knew how much blood was on her bathtub floor.

She sat down next to where he had just collapsed and looked at his chest. Shaking her head at the bags under his eyes, she got to work on his cuts and tried not to stare at the eight pack abs. "When is the last time you've slept?"

He shook his head. "I don't know, he didn't let me. Probably so I didn't break the damn hold."

She glanced up at him, seeing the glassy look in his eyes. "Clint, stop."

"Lot easier said than done, Nat." He replied, closing his eyes. "How did he die?"

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, knowing how much he was hurting inside. Coulson had been a father figure to Clint. One that didn't beat him, didn't trick him, didn't threaten him and mean it, or didn't try to kill him. Coulson had taken the twenty-two year old broken mercenary and turned him into SHIELD's finest. He had taken the fresh out of a divorce young man who had just left the last person he had left and made him feared again. Coulson had been one of the only people besides her that broke through Clint's walls. Unlike Coulson, Natasha could get stone railed by his walls when he wanted her to, but when he tried with Coulson, it didn't work. The man always found the archer, whether it'd be the catwalks, the vents, the roof, the combat arena, or the range, Coulson always found him and got him to talk. She never understood how the two were so close. "A hero's death. He shot Loki with a random gun."

She saw him swallow a lump in his throat. "Clint,"

"Don't." He whispered, voice cracked. "Just another one that left."

She shook her head. "Clint, he wouldn't have left. He adored you for some odd reason. I mean, you two didn't have that big of an age difference, but he was like a father to you. Clint, what Swordsman and Trickshot did, leaving like that, is not even close to Phil."

"I know that, Nat." He whispered, eyes remaining close. "Just another person I cared about gone."

She didn't correct him there. "Fury handed me something, an envelope. It's addressed to you. One to you and one to me. He gave it to me while you were unconscious. Said Coulson's dying words were give this to Clint."

"Probably my court hearing." Clint mumbled.

She nearly slapped him. "Clinton Francis Barton, if you don't stop this guilt trip I will force you to stop."

He opened his eyes, sadness in them. "I'll try Nat, but you know me."

_A heart bigger than you like to show, I know_. "I haven't read mine yet." She said, throwing another piece of glass into the trash. "They found mine in his desk. He kept yours on him."

"Are you going to read it?" He asked her, staring at her.

"I'll read mine when you read yours." She stated, staring back.

"Well, go get them. Let's get this over with." He grumbled, watching her retrieve them from her suit. "You've had them in your suit the entire time?"

She smirked, handing him his. "Sorry if there is blood on it."

She didn't tell him it was Coulson's blood.

_Dear Hawkeye,_

_First of all, knock it off. Stop this damn guilt trip that I know you're taking. What happened was not your fault. I repeat, NOT. It's the damn demigods fault. So stop your little pity party and get your ass back to work. For all the people that give you strange looks, well it won't be the first time and won't be the last. Just hold your head up and get going. I want my archer back._

_Second, whatever the hell happened in Budapest, you two divas need to get over yourselves and start working together again. I want my untouchable team back. Understand? I wrote the same thing to Romanoff, so don't think you're getting special treatment. Both of you have trust issues, and I get it, it scares you both to think you might actually, get ready, _love_ someone. Welcome to the real world kiddo. I really wish you two would just admit it and be together because I know you two can handle it. _

_Third, stop doubting yourself. Barton, there is a reason I hired you instead of killing you. So Captain has super soldier serum, so Stark has a fancy suit, so Thor is a demigod, so Banner turns into the Hulk, special. I have two master assassins who are one hundred percent human. You two are breathtakingly, painfully, perfectly human. Those four, they have an obligation to do good, you two, have nothing but determination and something you insist on calling a ledger. You two do this because you want to. They do it because they have to. Barton, you see things no one else does. It's amazing what you see. I've got scientist insisting you're not human because you can see these things. So, stop doubting yourself, because you are the most unique, most important on that team in the line of safety. Who else but you will see the threats directed at them?_

_Last, here comes the sappy part, I'm sorry for whatever idiotic thing I did to get killed. Know that it wasn't your fault. As annoying as you have been, you are my agent and I couldn't be more proud. I will never regret taking you and your mess of a self in. I proved Fury wrong. He said you were definitely the best marksman in the world, and probably the most mentally unstable. I told him I would break through that exterior. I did, and I got to see the most amazing things. I got to see the small town butchers son that had been a child abuse victim but now served as a child's idol. I saw a betrayed and broken young man whose mentors and friends had all left become this unstoppable force that spared someone just like he used to be. I got to observe you fight with all your strange grace and rhythm. I received glares from the other handlers as my 'unstable lost cause' beat all of their 'perfect agents'. I watched that New Year's party where you and Romanoff were named the best pair of the century. I loved being able to brag to Fury, Hill, and all of SHIELD that you two were _my_ agents. I had the guy who saw things differently and had overcome things that should have broken him. I had the girl who could make a terrorist cry for his mom and still have a heart even though she had been a KGB puppet. My agents were the ones that took down 50 mob members in one mission. My agents were known around the world as the Untouchables. So kid, as annoying as you two are, you are my agents. Take care of yourselves and this team, and stop this guilt trip._

_Sincerely,_

_Phil Coulson_

Clint looked over at Natasha, seeing her smiling sadly. He didn't realize he had tears running down his face until he felt one land on his bare chest. "What'd yours say?"

"I cleaned my ledger, take care of you, he didn't regret sparing me, and make sure to keep all of you boys in line. And to get together because he's sick of us acting like teenagers." She whispered, glancing at him. "Yours?"

"Stop my guilt trip, don't doubt my importance to the team, get together because he's sick of us acting like teens, he doesn't regret taking me and my mess of a self on, and that he was proud of me." Clint whispered, shaking his head. "I've never heard someone say they were proud of me. Not even Trickshot."

She didn't think he meant to say that out loud. She laid down next to him, glad he wrapped his arms around her. "I'm going to miss that man. Even if he watched too much Supernanny and drank too much coffee."

"Me too." Clint whispered into her hair. "He's right, we acted like teenagers after Budapest."

She nodded. "He's right, we're scared but we're perfect for each other."

Clint nodded. "I say we get some sleep before we have to deal with the team. Then, I say we head on vacation."

"Where?" She asked, intrigued.

"Your pick."

She smiled lightly. "I'll tell you at the sendoff."

* * *

Thor was glancing around his new team. They all looked serious, and ready for this to be over. The good Captain had his arms crossed, tan jacket on, and waiting patiently. Iron Man wasn't in his suit, and he had serious face on for once. The doctor looked much like the other two, and the assassins, there was something different. The Hawk had black sunglasses on, and when the Widow whispered something his ear, he smiled before slipping the blank face back on.

"After this we go to Iowa and retry Budapest." Natasha said to Barton as Thor and Loki got ready for takeoff.

He smiled but didn't reply.

Later on, as they were getting into the car, he leaned against his door. "Were you serious? I thought we were never giving Budapest another try. And Iowa is a lot of blank space."

She walked around and stood by his side. She smiled flirtatiously at him. "I'd give Budapest another try, and what better place than beautiful and blank land."

"Then why don't you show me Budapest right now." He asked, smirking at her.

"Stark is watching." She answered with a coy smile as she climbed into his car.

He realized too late that she was in the passenger's seat. "I'm not driving."

She smirked. "You're the one without a seat. Get on it, Barton."

He rolled his eyes before walking over and entering the driver's side. "Fine, driver picks music."

She groaned and reached for the iPod she had in her purse.

* * *

They sat underneath the Iowa moonlight. His arms were around her waist while her head was on his chest. He never talked about Iowa, but Natasha knew he wanted to come back. He was still a country boy at heart, and she secretly loved it. "It's beautiful out here." She whispered. "I never saw stars like this when I was growing up. I don't even think they have stars in Russia."

He chuckled, sure that wasn't true. "I use to come out here every night. Times varied so sometimes it would be in the morning like two am but it was still beautiful."

She nodded. "Barton?"

"Hmm?"

"How are we going to do this?" She asked.

"What?" He asked her, confused.

"Us. This, on a mission." She stated.

"Like we do everything." He answered, smiling and kissing the top of her head.

"And how is that?" She questioned him.

"With a vague face, a little wickedness, and some luck."

She chuckled. "Sounds about right."

He nodded, staring up at the sky. "Are we staying in this?"

"Depends what _this_ is." She said, glancing at his face.

"The Avengers."

She shrugged. "I don't know, Clint. We should, for Coulson."

"Yeah, for Coulson." He mumbled.

She rolled over so she was perched up on top of him. She smiled coyly. "Plus, I love to keep Tony Stark guessing. He's so easy to get a reaction out of."

Clint raised an eyebrow and fought a smile. "What do you mean?"

"You weren't very helpful at the restaurant with the whole we're-not-dating-Stark." She said with a smirk.

"Why is that? And since when were we hiding anything from Stark? I barely know the guy." He stated.

"Since I heard him bet that we were sleeping together." She explained.

"We are." He said simply.

"Yes, but Tony Stark doesn't need to know that." She whispered.

"Mmm, alright. What did I do at the restaurant?" He asked.

"That leg on my chair." She stated, eyes narrowing.

He actually had the nerve to smirk. "My leg hurt."

"Bullshit." She called.

"That waiter kept eyeing you. Had to let him know you were taken without letting the team know." He explained.

"I don't belong to you." She stated, growling when he flipped them so he was on top of her. "I-"

"-am the Black Widow and I don't belong to anyone, blah, blah, blah." He finished, earning a deadly glare from her. "Unfortunately, or fortunately for me, you are _my_ spider. Remember, you owe me a debt?"

She fought a smile. "I thought that was repaid when I saved you on the helicaire."

"Doesn't change the fact that you are _my_ spider." He stated, smiling.

"And why is that?" She asked.

"Because you're always going to be _my_ spider." He said before leaning down and kissing her.

**The End!  
**

**HUGE thanks to everony who has reviewed, favorited, followed, and/or read this. I love you all. It's amazing to think this is my second most reviewed story when I was so terrified to publish it. PLEASE, vote on that poll. So far, the least developed is winning. While I want to write that, it'll take some time because well, how to explain this without giving anything away. I have to write from a POV of someone that isn't usually known. It's a very hard POV to write from. I was almost thinking about co-writing if anyone was interested.**


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